COLDPLAY, is a Hello Kitty backpack.

I can't accept this; because I'm neither Japanese, 14 years old, nor a girl.

Oh Chris Martin, effeminate male singer of Coldplay, husband to Gwenyth Paltrow, father and obscure namer to Apple, how I do love those melodious pipes.

One thing you're always guaranteed about Coldplay, they're ALWAYS gonna make a Coldplay album. They're not one for experimenting; which makes me wonder just WHAT in the hell John Leguizamo was thinking a few years back at the Grammys. I mean, yeah, "Politik" is a pretty groovy song, but come on, like I've been saying all along, they ain't Radiohead. You're never gonna go into a Coldplay album saying, "THIS is their Rawk album;" or "This is gonna be their alt-country album" or "Their acoustic-metal album." It's always Coldplay, each song fitting nicely within the 3:30-5:30 range, each song getting its share of girlie-man vocals, some guitar, heavy piano, interspersed with adequate drumming and time-keeping.

I mean, all in all, Coldplay hasn't really made a terrible album. They'd be one of those bands I'd put a solid 3-star stamp on each one, but never more than a half over, and never more than a half under. They don't take any chances. There's no real outstretching of the music. The new album, for all intents and purposes, is pretty much 11 different versions of "Clocks," with a couple versions of "Yellow" thrown in for the ladies.